I’m not even going to attempt to write a review, it would be impossible for me to put into any words how personal this book is for me, how much it means to me, how stunningly beautiful, sad, insightful, and perfect this novel is.
I’m not sure I ever need to read another novel again.
Fathers and Sons is perfect. I’m in love with it.
It’s funny how similar Bazarov and Pavel are, though come to it from opposite directions.
Pavel, constrained by society once tried to ‘live’ but now is pretty much a walking, wounded corpse. Bazarov knows great love but denies everything and too is a walking and wounded corpse. He’s even constrained by his own society, though he’d never admit it.
No wonder they tried to let the other kill them.
The scene where Vassily and Arina sit on the steps and watch their son, Bazarov, ride off is one of the most beautiful, sad, and touching scenes I’ve ever read.
She rests her gray head against his gray head, she compares her beloved son to a falcon that swoops in then away for good, and compares them as two old mushrooms in the hollow of a tree who live for each other.
I hope to be that in love one day too.
Bazarov is full of crap. That or he’s a total sociopath. The pride he’s full of is astounding, and he’s such a hypocrite too! Seeing him squirm because he’s in love is fun to see and how his mother fawns over him as if he’s the entire universe.
The little prick.
Bazarov is an ass. I don’t like him. I mean, he’s an amazing character, which is why I can hate him so much.
This is the first time I’ve read a novel where the age of one of the main characters was not only the same as mine, but was a matter of importance to the story.
Nikolai worries that he is no longer part of the current generation. He tries to keep up with the times, attempts to be modern, yet his son and his son’s friend, nihilist Bazarov, make him feel left behind.
It’s a strange feeling; I can relate.
The little scene where Pavel examines the bad photographs of Fenitchka and and Nikolai has a very ‘modern’ feel to it; it’s very unlike anything I read so far from Tolstoy, Gogol, or Dostoyevsky.
There’s no explanation given to us what these photos ‘mean’ of ‘an eyeless face wearing a forced smile, in a dingy frame’. We will have to make it out ourselves, we’ll have to see better, see everyone better; like Pavel.
You can almost feel the slow embrace of spring warmth slipping over you as you ride along in the carriage at the beginning of this novel. Beautifully written.
The set up is quite good and I’m already itching to find out when it will come to an argument between grubby, nihilistic Bazarov and dandy, dapper, old-guard Pavel.
I’m always fascinated how an author can create real characters so alive so quickly.